Peace
by Faded Nights
Summary: Whenever they could find peace, she revelled in it. -- A fluffy little one-shot.


Disclaimer: Characters are copyright of Naoko Takeuchi and associated companies, people, etc.

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Peace

Clear tones sung from the body of the violin, the notes starting with long, exaggerated whole tones, the quivering of the vibrato faster and slower on each note as the violinist moved long fingers up and down the neck of the priceless wood, practiced motions settling the pads of those fingers just _so_ on each of the strings as with her other hand she danced the oiled horsehair of the bow across the bridged section of the tense metal strings with ease. The notes became shorter and shorter as she played, stepping up and down chromatically in her warm-up technique until her fingers were flying as she played through the scales in staccato thirty-second notes, her right hand practically a blur as it moved the bow, the left hand untraceable as muscle memory and practice alone guided her fingers to the correct positions upon the strings. Then she slowed, the notes getting longer and longer as she reversed the exercise, letting the violin sing out as the vibratos again became more pronounced… Then without preamble, the final tone in her warm-up turned into the pick-up note into her first rehearsal piece and Haruka, though she'd been expecting it, had been entranced enough by watching Michiru play that she nearly missed the piano cue.

The glint that appeared in Michiru's eye and the slight turning up of her lips at the shortened introductory note told Haruka that the aquamarine haired woman hadn't missed her slip, either. Not that she had expected her to, of course. Michiru was far too talented a musician to miss such a blatant error. The rest of the piece, however, went easily, without a hitch until they had nearly reached the first coda, and Michiru suddenly stopped playing altogether. Stopped so suddenly, in fact, that Haruka actually played another two bars before fully realising she was no longer accompanying anything at all. She looked up curiously as the slight woman transferred her bow to her other hand and, holding both bow and violin limp armed by her side, began furiously flipping through her music while Haruka watched, a bit perplexed, because Michiru scarcely ever looked at the sheet music once she'd learnt a piece and she certainly never abruptly stopped playing in order to do so.

"Did the chord offend you?" she asked, her eyes following her partner's movements as Michiru took a pencil and began marking up the bar she'd stopped at, unable to see what she was writing, but well versed enough in both the piece and Michiru's moods to figure out which part had bothered her.

"Again from 145," Michiru responded instead of answering the question, her soft voice just a bit on the crisp side. Haruka didn't argue, and instead played the piano introduction to the section, her eyes once again focused upon Michiru when the violinist made her entry, fingers relying on practice to find the proper chords and passing notes, instead of the sight of the cool ivory keys beneath them.

This time Michiru didn't stop and though Haruka's ear—no where near as well tuned as Michiru's—didn't pick up any difference in the melody the violin sang, her eyes picked up the slight, satisfied relaxation of Michiru's features as they played through the part she'd stopped at before. The violin seemed to sing more sweetly after that, and when they reached the allegro section at the end of the second coda, Michiru's fingers and bow on the strings moving just as quickly as they had in the fastest part of her warm-up, there was a small smile on the violinist's face and a contentedness expressed in the set of her closed eyes.

Michiru waited a long moment then, still standing with her violin resting between chin and shoulder, bow raised as though she were ready to play again, and Haruka settled herself back into position at the piano, hands poised above the keys, ready to resume playing the piece from the top. It was rather routine for them to play through a piece twice, or sometimes even thrice with no words exchanged and little pause, especially on days like these, leading up to one of Michiru's concerts… but to Haruka's surprise, the piece Michiru launched into then was completely different from what they'd been rehearsing. A piece Haruka didn't know the accompaniment for (and didn't care to know, what with the varied tempo of the piece: here quick; here slow; here changing time signature every other bar), the blonde was content to simply relax upon the piano bench and watch Michiru play. She recognised the piece, of course. In fact, it was her favourite both to listen to and watch her partner play, and Michiru _knew_ that. Knew it so well that she only played the piece now _for_ Haruka, and not often, so whenever she did Haruka watched intently as that lithe, graceful figure threw herself into the music, studied the passion in the features, the concentration in the brow and the way she held her eyes closed, in a way that often made Haruka wonder if Michiru could see the notes flying by on her eyelids as she played them.

It was Michiru's best piece—at least as far as Haruka was concerned—and as always, the performance was flawless. As always, it left her staring for a long moment afterward, more than a little bit slack-jawed and nearly hypnotised, blinking rapidly to gain her focus back before Michiru could notice and spend the next hour sending her those sly looks that told Haruka she knew just how much power she had over her taller partner. And while Haruka didn't entirely _mind_ those looks, it was still a bit of a contest with herself to see if _this _timeshe could fend off their start.

She didn't. The music ceased its echoing around the room and Michiru relaxed from her playing position, holding instrument and bow by her side and turning to look at Haruka, who dimly registered the music had finished, and that those blue eyes were fixed upon her now instead of closed in concentration. She could only blink though, as Michiru crossed the room to her, finally aware enough to bring her hands together and clap, latently enough that she was sure Michiru could take offence to it if she had the mind to (and didn't know why the applause was so delayed), and just in time to receive a gentle press of lips against her cheek.

"Are you sure you don't want to learn the accompaniment?" Michiru murmured, sliding onto the bench next to her. Haruka could only nod slowly, forcing herself to blink as she tried to refocus her eyes. She heard Michiru giggle as the smaller woman laid her head on her shoulder, and she sighed and brought an arm up around her smaller partner, pressing her lips to the hair, smiling slightly.

"I'd have to concentrate on something else if I did that," she remarked. She felt Michiru shake against her, the giggles silent.

"Oh? Wouldn't want that," the soldier of the sea returned, and then stood and moved away from the piano again, returning to her practicing position. "From the top," she said, and Haruka returned her attention to the piece they'd been playing before. The violin started its sweet singing again, the tones of the piano supporting that melody wrapping around it in through the passages to the end. They practiced for another half hour, working the piece over, Michiru's need for perfection pushing her further though Haruka didn't think she could surpass the performance she saw in that long practice session, until Michiru finally called it a day.

Haruka stood over her partner as Michiru put the violin away, watching the violinist as she ran a soft cloth across the fingerboard and then body of the violin, noticing the cringe in the woman's face as she slipped her bow away.

"Drive me to the shop?" Michiru requested then, closing the lid on the violin case and clicking the snaps in place. She wrapped one hand around the handle on the case and rose to her feet and Haruka raised an eyebrow.

"The repair shop again?" she asked, a bit confused. "You were just there last month." Michiru took good care of her violin, but needing to have the instrument looked at twice in as many months seemed a bit excessive, even for a professional of Michiru's calibre.

Her aquamarine haired partner was giving her a patient, albeit slightly exasperated look. "To get the bow re-haired," she said. "Now the strings need to be replaced. Preferably before Saturday night."

It was Monday, but Michiru had a concert on Saturday night and Haruka knew she wouldn't be able to stand playing if she felt as though her violin wasn't at its best. Since the new strings seemed to take a day or two to settle, it made sense that Michiru would want to get them changed today.

"Let's go, then," Haruka replied, making her way to the front entranceway ahead of her partner and putting her own on before grabbing Michiru's coat from the closet. She held it out to help her into it as the violinist approached, garnering a raised eyebrow and a slight quirking upward of the corner's of Michiru's lips as the woman slipped her arms into the offered winter coat.

"Such a gentleman," Michiru remarked, and Haruka choked out a laugh.

"Only for you," she responded, watching as the raised brow moved further up toward Michiru's hairline. "What's that look for?" But Michiru's countenance had taken on the slightly mysterious expression that let Haruka know she wasn't going to get an answer out of her partner.

"You're cruel, Michi," she commented, ducking out of the way as Michiru made a swing at her and laughing as she left the house, holding the door for her partner only long enough to see the smaller woman onto the front stoop before taking off down the path and toward the driveway, refusing to give Michiru a chance to actually connect with her next swat. She grabbed the side of the car as her foot hit a patch of ice on the drive, barely stopping herself from falling flat, and it took a lot of mustering of her dignity to ignore Michiru's unconcealed laughter as they got into the car.

"I don't _have_ to take you, you know," Haruka pointed out.

Michiru stifled her giggles, and Haruka watched the effort the woman exerted to sober herself. "I'm sorry, love," she remarked, looking genuinely apologetic despite the amusement still in her tone and the sparkle in her eye. Haruka faked a harrumph as she started the car, rubbing her hands together in the cold air of the car as she waited for the engine to warm.

"Until next time, I'm sure," was Haruka's falsely exasperated-sounding response. Michiru giggled again, and Haruka blinked, amused but a bit confused by the playful mood her girlfriend was in.

"I reserve the right to laugh at you if you fall because you took off running when it was icy," Michiru argued, tone still playful and Haruka rolled her eyes as she backed the car down the driveway and into the street, then gunned the engine to the stop sign at the end, enjoying Michiru's 'eep' of surprise, catching from the corner of her eye the tightening grip of one long fingered hand on the violin case when she hit the brakes on the car to slow just as abruptly as she'd sped up.

"_Haruka!_" came the expected scolding tone once Michiru had recovered from the shock caused by the sudden speed. There was laughter in her voice though, and Haruka turned her head briefly to flash a smile at her passenger, who was wiping at watering eyes with a smile on her face, looking much less calm and refined then usual. It made Haruka grin to see it—Michiru's feathers were hard to ruffle.

"If I can't run…" she murmured, and Michiru sent her an irritated look.

"I didn't say you couldn't," she pointed out. "I just said I reserved the right to laugh at you when you fell."

Haruka took one hand from the wheel and reached over to cover one of Michiru's hands with it, smiling as Michiru entwined long fingers with her own. She moved her fingers slightly so that she could stroke the soft skin on the back of Michiru's hand with her thumb as she drove, hearing Michiru's soft, contented sigh and letting a bit of a smile quirk one corner of her mouth upward.

Whenever they could find peace, she revelled in it.

End.

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A fluffy, pointless little one-shot… Because I could.


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